Choice
by jnovak428
Summary: Set around 8x23 (written before it has premiered) where the second trial for Castiel to close the gates of Heaven is to kill a prophet. I would consider this pre-Destiel. It's dealing with the emotions from 8x22.


**A/N: I wrote this the day after watching "Clip Show" and seeing the preview for the finale where it made me think that the second trial for Castiel would be to kill a prophet. Fingers crossed, I hope that's not true, we'll see. But after 8x22 I started to distrust Metatron and there was a lot of pent-up emotion in Dean during that episode, so I felt the need to write something and get it off my chest. This is probably the first fic I've written in one sitting!**

**I do not own Supernatural or its characters.**

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The angels, in tandem, took another menacing step closer to the prophet. Castiel grabbed Kevin by the cuff of his shirt and threw him down into the chair.

"I'm sorry, Kevin," Metatron said from behind him. "You're a good kid." Somehow, he didn't believe these angels really cared; he was just another pawn to get them closer to their goal. The quiet clinking of metal alerted Kevin to the angel blade that Castiel now held inches away. He just wondered why he deserved this after all he'd done to help the world.

"Y'know," Kevin admitted through a clenched jaw. "Back when I first met you, you were insane, and Dean told me you had gotten better. He was wrong. Now, you're so much worse."

Castiel's gaze flickered down momentarily. There was a tone of sympathy in Kevin's voice when he added, "It's too bad he couldn't fix you. He would've done anything, he cares that much." A pang of hurt shot through Castiel. He repressed it because he simply could not handle any more pain. He'd broken Dean's trust again, tested the man's faith and loyalty over and over and dragged him down the same dead-end road. He had come to the conclusion that there was no way to fix it, because every time he tried they both suffered worse than before. He was just poison to everything good and pure.

Castiel closed in on Kevin and whispered remorsefully, "If I had a choice, things would be different."

Kevin looked him in the eyes with trembling resolution. "You do."

Castiel gave a weary sigh. Why didn't anyone understand that he had to do this? That this was for humanity's gain, not his own. He certainly was getting nothing but misery out of the whole ordeal. And yet he was always the enemy. Was there something he was missing in the equation, a reason it kept coming to this? Even if there were, it was too late. He raised his blade, and Kevin flinched, attempting to hold his composure. This boy had stood up to the King of Hell, and yet he was more afraid of an angel. Castiel was, truly, sorry.

Metatron urged him to finish the job. "Go on, do it! We have no time to lose, we're competing against Naomi, remember?" Just as Castiel was about to bring the knife down into Kevin's heart, the door to the bunker swung open with a forceful bang and the Winchesters rushed in, guns cocked and ready. Sam stopped in his tracks when he saw Metatron holding Kevin down in the chair with a startled expression on his face. Dean had his sights set on Castiel, pointing his gun at the angel, his eyes cold. Castiel knew in that moment what it felt like to be one of the monsters they hunt. He thought it an accurate comparison.

"Get the hell away from him, you son of a bitch!" Dean roared at him. Slowly, he retreated from the chair and stood up straight, dropping the hand that held the blade to his side. In the past, at times like this (for there have been too many) he would have tried to explain himself and justify his actions. But now, he resolved to stay silent, for he knew Dean was beyond listening. The hunter still displayed no mercy, but Sam came over and lowered Dean's gun with his hand. He attempted to reason with Castiel first.

"Cas, what's going on? Were you and Metatron about to kill Kevin?"

Alas, Castiel was forced to speak and hear how broken he was. "We- Yes. I realize I have been withholding pertinent information from you, but I did not want to concern you with these matters. Unfortunately, there is a conflict of interests. I…I am in the process of completing the trials necessary to close Heaven's gates."

Sam's eyes searched the room wildly, as if hoping to find answers tucked deep in the nooks and crannies of that bunker like so many other wondrous age-old secrets. His gaze came back to rest on the disheveled angel with the pained look on his face that had become all too familiar these last few years. The one that said, 'How can what I'm doing be bad when it's for you? Please, _please,_ don't abandon me, I'm trying to help. It's all I've ever done.' Sam understood a little better than his brother what it felt like to make bad decisions with good intentions, but still, he had interrupted their friend about to stab their prophet. "What? Cas, what are you talking about? You gotta explain!"

Castiel stole a reluctant glance at Dean, whose expression had morphed into one of betrayal; the utter despair in realizing he'd been duped yet again by these damn angels and their shady agendas, and the pain, the _disappointment_, that once more the only angel he thought different was caught right in the middle of it. Dean had nothing left to give. Honestly, he was ready to walk out and never look back. Castiel opened his mouth to elaborate but Metatron cut him off. "Sorry boys, but this has to be done. I know, it's regrettable, but the most important thing right now is shutting down Heaven before Naomi or any other number of ruthless bureaucrats can take over. I don't suppose you want a repeat of Raphael's dictatorship, hm? Then let us do this. Castiel is the only one who can complete these trials and restore order. Don't you want what's best for all of us?"

Fury was growing inside Sam, and he erupted. "We trusted you, Metatron! We let you in on the demon tablet, and now you're making Cas do this dirty work behind our backs? Why didn't you come to us?" Metatron stuttered, but Sam wasn't done yet. "You too, Cas! We've been here this whole time, waiting for you to come back. Why would you hide this from us? We could've helped!"

Glaring at Castiel, Dean added with a snarl, "We wouldn't have let you do it."

Castiel could nearly feel the circle of holy fire blazing at his feet, bathing his figure in that orange glow and illuminating his sins for all to see. Oh, how some things don't change. Acting out a fated script, he muttered, for he knew how meaningless it was, "I thought I was doing the right thing."

Suddenly Dean was shouting, the frustration and anguish finally pouring out and taking form the way it never could before.

"Why is coming to us never the right thing?!

Why is sticking around never the right thing?!"

Sam swore he saw tears welling up in Dean's eyes as he lowered his voice to concentrate the emotions to their fullest, to make the ultimate accusation, to ask the question he'd been wondering all his life.

"Why am I never the right thing?"

_Oh Father, you must be gone to let such tragedy exist. _Castiel wanted to hide his face, he wanted to curl up and let his Grace dissipate into the ether. Instead, cruel reality held him close and forced him to continue living. What could he say that would not worsen the situation? And yet, if he did not speak, the silence would only serve to confirm every doubt Dean has ever had. The answer was lost to him. "Dean…" he started, but stopped when the hunter bowed his head and looked away. He wanted to tell that man how he _was _the right thing, the only right thing, and how that was the reason why he had given up everything to protect him, even though it always backfired. Yet Dean hadn't understood before, and would not now. He could beg no more for patience, trust, or forgiveness.

Metatron stood watching the scene unfold, but grew irritated at the lack of action. "Castiel, finish this. It's you and me against Heaven now, and we don't have time to waste. C'mon!"

Dean turned his head slightly to glimpse Castiel approach a sleeping Kevin. Metatron must've put him out sometime when they were talking. Dean's heart dropped as he relinquished the hope that Castiel would break away. The angel wasn't even under Naomi's control anymore, no, this was Cas crossing the final line all by himself. He never thought it would come to this.

Metatron was pleased when he saw Castiel's knife emerge from the sleeve of his trenchcoat and slip silently down into his palm. However, before he could act the blade was pressed tight against his throat, celestial metal gleaming and drawing a thin line of blood which trickled down his neck. The brothers whipped around, and Dean froze, transfixed on Castiel's threatening form. "You speak of choice…" Castiel growled, low and ominous into his ear. "Well, it's time for me to choose what I think is right." He backed away, giving Metatron a violent shove which left him visibly shaken. "I will not be a pawn in your game, or any other. I am done hiding. I know who I can trust, and they will _always_ find a better way. Go tell Naomi to do her worst. We'll be ready."

Metatron was stunned into silence, unable to move. "GO!" Castiel yelled, and with a hurried flap of wings he was gone, never to return. Castiel turned to see the Winchesters staring in shock. Slowly, a nervous smile grew on Sam's face. For just a moment, Castiel slipped into a state of weary bliss. Even though this created a whole new set of challenges, at least he had done one good thing. And it was a big one. Dean watched as Castiel made his way over to him, unable to decide what he should be feeling. He wanted to push the angel away, make it clear they weren't 'ok', but as soon as he was near enough Dean pulled Castiel into a forceful hug, clenching that trenchcoat tight in his fist and refusing to let go. The other hand was clasped firmly around Cas's neck, fingers deep in silken strands of dark hair. For the first time, Dean felt a set of arms wind tentatively around him as Castiel returned the gesture. He gave a shuddered breath as his pent-up emotions dissolved for the time being. He closed his eyes and let his head rest on the angel's shoulder. Maybe for just a week, a year, or forever, Dean wasn't sure. He just knew that in this moment, Castiel was the right thing. And the right thing had never felt so right.


End file.
